


This is Halloween

by scifigrl47



Series: Tales of the Bots [11]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Family Bonding, Fluff, Halloween, Holiday, Kidfic, M/M, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-04-29 06:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5119181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifigrl47/pseuds/scifigrl47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is determined that his kid will have a normal childhood.  This is a lost cause.  No one's willing to tell him so.</p><p>DJ doesn't so much care about having a normal Halloween.  He just wants his family's version of Halloween.  He's going to get it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [copperbadge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperbadge/gifts).



> I'm running a bit behind, but I wanted to post at least the beginning of this on Halloween. The rest will come as soon as possible, so thanks for your patience!
> 
> Enjoy, and happy Halloween!

“Want to know what your mistake was?”

Tony leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “Letting all of you move in?” he asked, not really caring about the answer.

Phil didn't look up from stirring the dark, creamy liquid in the pot that was bubbling away in front of him on the stove. “I was going to say, 'supplying a load of pumpkins to people with specialized knife skills,'” he mused, “but your guess is pretty on point as well.”

Tony took a deep breath and let it out through his teeth. “We are having the full Halloween experience,” he said, ignoring how his head ached. “And that includes jack o'lanterns. I thought-” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I thought they would take a pumpkin, and gouge out a couple of eyes, a nose, maybe a snaggle-toothed mouth, I thought they would be NORMAL, Phil, I mean-” 

He stopped. “There is no way I could've predicted this.” He sounded defensive, even to his own ears, but soldiered on anyway. “I'm a genius, I'm one of the smartest people on earth, and there is no way I could have predicted that we'd end up stabbing pumpkins with switchblades.”

Phil was staring at him, his eyebrows arched in an expression of polite disbelief. “Really?” he asked after a long moment. “There is no way you could've-”

“I figured that Natasha wouldn't get the good knives dirty!”

“Stark, the good knives are usually significantly dirtier than this,” Phil said.

“Fine, okay, it was a slight miscalculation, I just wanted the kid to have a damn Jack O'Lantern,” Tony grumbled. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I wanted him to have a regular Halloween. Is that so wrong?”

Phil shook his head. “Only you would think that a 'regular Halloween' involved two dozen pumpkins being delivered for one small child.”

Tony made a face. “It was easier to just have a crate of them delivered than to try to choose one for him. They're all-” He rolled a hand through the air. “Different.”

“Strange how that happens with nature,” Phil said.

“Shut up. Anyway, I figured he'd pick one and we could use the rest for decorations at the building Halloween party,” Tony said. “It was practical. I am always practical.”

“Really?” Phil asked. He brought the spoon to his lips, taking a careful sip. “How's the practicality working out for you?”

He resisted the urge to say something short, violent or obscene, or ideally, all three. “It's not,” Tony admitted at last. He huffed out a breath. “Whatever, the building management'll get Avengers carved pumpkins instead of intact pumpkins, they'll deal. They'll be collector's items or some shit.” He waved a hand through the air. “They can raffle them.”

“They're pumpkins, they'll be rotted in a week.”

“I need you to stop talking now, you're annoying me.” He glanced at Phil, his eyes narrowed. “And after the party, I want you to understand here, there will be trick or treating.”

Phil put the wooden spoon aside and turned off the stove. “You're taking him out-”

“There will be trick or treating around the personal floors, and I expect full participation,” Tony clarified. “It's in your rental agreement.” 

Phil gave him a look. “Strange, I don't remember signing a rental-”

“You're old and senile. Of course you have a rental agreement.” He pointed a finger in Phil's direction. “And it stipulates that there will be trick or treating for the landlord's kid.”

Phil paused. “So, what you're saying is that DJ will be knocking at our door, carrying a pillowcase, expecting attention and treats, while wearing an outlandish outfit?” he asked, pouring steaming hot cocoa from a sauce pan into individual mugs. He glanced up at Tony, a faint smile creasing his cheeks. “And this is different from an ordinary Saturday, how?”

“Well, Steve will be standing behind him with a camera-” Tony started, and Phil arched an eyebrow at him. “Fine. Shut up. Just make sure you have chocolate to give him.”

“Clint has been stocking up on Peanut Butter cups for six weeks now, and eating them almost as fast as he's buying them. If we're lucky, there will be some left on Halloween,” Phil said. He filled the last mug and set the pan aside. “Cocoa?”

“Yes, and how is that man not dead?” Tony asked.

“It's a medical mystery,” Phil said. To the room at large, he asked, “Who wants cocoa?”

Every hand in the room went up. Both of DJ's shot up, and a glob of pumpkin guts hit the ceiling with a sticky, wet splat. Everyone stared up at it. Clint let out a bark of laughter. “Kid's got an arm,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“Kid IS an arm,” Tony said. He took a long, slow sip of his cocoa, staring up at the gunk. “I think we're going to leave that there.”

“Tony,” Steve said, half rising from his seat to take mugs from Phil. Together, they handed them out and then Phil cleared a spot for himself at the table, moving the newspapers covered with pumpkin bits out of his way.

“No, no, I've been meaning to restart my modern art collection,” Tony said. He waved one hand expansively over his head. “We're going to call this 'Disdain in Organic Material.'”

“No, Tony,” Steve said, taking a sip of his cocoa. He gave Tony a speaking glance over the rim of his mug, and Tony grinned at him, unrepentant.

“See, you're only saying no because this traditional art thing isn't working out for you, you have to settle for being a super hero and American legend, whereas DJ's going to be the next Ai Weiwei,” Tony said. “Let's get it framed.”

DJ's eyes darted from one to the other, and his hand crept towards the bowl of pumpkin guts. “Don't even think about it, mister,” Steve said, without even glancing in his direction. DJ paused, and then subsided into his seat with a sigh. “Thank you.” Steve pushed his mug of cocoa towards him, and DJ picked it up with both hands, burying his face in the cup.

“Here, you can help me,” Bruce said, offering DJ the big flat plastic scoop. “I seem to have a lot of-” He peered into the pumpkin. “There's a lot of seeds in here.”

DJ scrambled up to kneel on his chair, mirroring Bruce's stance as he looked into the pumpkin. “Goop,” he said.

“Goop's a good word for it,” Steve said, climbing onto his chair to scrape the pumpkin guts off of the ceiling. “Let's keep it on the table this time.”

“Are you planning on actually doing anything here, Stark?” Natasha asked, her knife sliding smoothly under the orange skin of the pumpkin.

“I'm doing something,” Tony said, trying to sound hurt. She gave him a look, and he held up his mug. “I'm drinking cocoa. That's my contribution.”

“I think she meant something useful,” Clint said, hunched over his pumpkin. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned in, the tip of his tongue sticking out from between his lips. 

“I paid for all of this, that's my contribution.”

DJ held up two fistfuls of pumpkin innards. “Goop,” he said, relishing the word. A clump of the stringy stuff fell into his cocoa. Phil moved it out of the way.

“It sure is,” Tony agreed.

DJ held the guts out towards Nat with a gleeful smile. “Lovely,” she said, but her lips were curling up. “Save the seeds for Clint to roast.”

“I put chili powder on them, they're great,” Clint agreed, flicking a chunk of orange pumpkin skin to the side. “Banner, are you using a scalpel on that poor thing?”

“You have you bladed weapon of choice, I have mine,” Bruce said, steadying the pumpkin for DJ to finish scraping the interior. “Kind of surprised yours isn't just stabbed a dozen times with an arrow.”

“Banner's getting sassy,” Clint said. 

“Happens a lot around you, I've noticed,” Steve said. “Wonder why.”

“No idea. I'm going to assume he wants my attention.” 

“This... This is not correct,” Bruce said, and DJ's scoop slipped, spattering him with pumpkin innards and seeds. He blinked, studying a seed that was now stuck to the lens of his glasses. “Good shot, Deej.”

“Sorry,” DJ said, reaching for it, and Bruce pulled his glasses off, letting DJ pick the goop out of his hair.

“It's a good look on you, Doc.” Clint turned his pumpkin around. “Ta-da!”

Everyone looked at it, then at him. Steve cleared his throat. “That's... That's truly something, Clint.”

“The question is, what?” Natasha asked, her head tipped to the side. 

Clint looked at Phil. Phil's mouth pursed as he considered the pumpkin. “Octopus?” he tried at last.

Clint frowned at him. “It's Cthulu.”

“Of course it is,” Bruce said. Clint looked at him, and Bruce managed a bright smile. “Really. Obviously.”

DJ reached out and poked a carved tentacle. “Octopus,” he said, his eyes huge. He grinned at Clint, his face alight with it. “Octopus!”

Clint held out for a second in the face of childish enthusiasm, then collapsed under the weight. “Right. Octopus. Your favorite.” He reached for his cocoa, his other hand ruffling DJ's hair. “I remembered. That was your favorite.” He sighed.

“Did you just get pumpkin in his hair?” Tony asked.

“Oh, like he didn't have pumpkin in his hair before this,” Clint said, his eyes rolling towards the ceiling. “Nat, what're-”

She turned hers around. It was carved with intricate geometric patterns, lines and curves smoothing their way through the heavy exterior skin to expose the pale inner flesh, a giant carved version of the Ukrainian eggs she made every Easter. “It's all about control,” she said, with a sweet smile. Everyone nodded, because it seemed safer. “Bruce?”

“We are going to make a cat,” Bruce said. He leaned in, his eyes narrowed behind the smudged lenses of his glasses. He set his scalpel against the skin of the pumpkin. “A nice smiling cat. Nice. Friendly. Cat.”

DJ held his hands up like claws. “Biting!”

“No biting,” Steve said. He turned his pumpkin around. “I did a ghost.”

“Very nice,” Tony said, because Steve honestly seemed pleased with his pumpkin carving skills. “Now, let's-”

“Am I too late to partake?” Thor asked, striding through the doorway. 

“No, we've still got pumpkins left,” Tony said, his voice trailing away as he got a good look at Thor.

Grinning, Thor held up a sword that was easily as tall as he was. It was a lot of sword.. “Your instructions were clear, I have brought my best blade.”

DJ stared up at him, his mouth hanging open. “Blade!

“And I think we're done here,” Tony said, snagging DJ as he jumped off of his chair. “C'mon, kid, time to roast the seeds and let the big people slice pumpkins with giant mythological weapons.”

“He must learn to control his sword at some point,” Thor said.

“We're saving that for next Halloween,” Steve said, his eyebrows arched. “One first at a time, Thor.”

“Speaking of which,” Clint said, poking his pumpkin with his knife. “Did he pick a costume?”

“No,” Tony said.

“Yes,” Steve said.

“Really, no,” Tony said, “it's still under discussion, I think-”

“Yes!” DJ said, hanging over his shoulder.

“Yes,” Steve said.

Tony sighed. “Yes,” he admitted.

Nat propped her chin on her fist. “And?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“You'll find out,” Steve said with a grin.

"No, they won't," Tony said.

Steve grinned. "You'll find out," he repeated.


	2. Chapter 2

Full time SHIELD agent and part time baby sitter Christine Collins fastened the last button on DJ's newest outfit and sat back on her heels. "Well," she said, a warm smile creasing her face, "how does that feel?"

DJ held his arms up, first at his sides, then above his head. He turned in a quick circle, and crouched down to wrap his arms around his knees. Finally, he plopped down, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "Okay," he said at last with a cheerful grin. Steve choked on a laugh, ducking his head down behind his coffee cup. 

"You do like making people work for it, don't you?" Tony asked. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Wonder where he gets that from,” Steve muttered. Tony gave him a speaking look, and Steve grinned back at him.

"It's always a good idea to make sure a new outfit is comfortable," Christine told him, even as she reached out to pull a loose thread away from a button. “Especially before a big party and public appearance.” Her eyes slid in Tony's direction. “You, of all people should know that.”

"Yes," DJ agreed. He grinned up at his father, who gave him a reluctant smile back.

"You know, we can still-"

Steve cut him off before he could start in on the familiar refrain. "I think it looks great. We're lucky that Christine made it for you.” 

“Yes,” DJ said, his eyes focused on his wiggling feet. His bare toes curled up, and he dug one heel into the carpet.

“What do you say, Deej?" Steve prompted.

DJ blinked at Steve, then at Christine. "Cape?" he asked.

Steve's head fell forward. "No, that's not-"

"Right here." Christine pulled the bright red cape from the child sized garment bag, shaking it out. "Up we go!" DJ scrambled to his feet. He raised his chin, going up on his tip toes to push it up as high as he could, and, stifling a smile, Christine tied it around his neck. "There," she said. "Want to try the hood?"

DJ tugged it into place, his fingers sliding back and forth on the ribbon that lined the edge of the fabric. "Thank," he said, and Christine smiled.

"You," she whispered, leaning in, her hands braced on her thighs, her eyes narrowed, "are a perfect Little Red Riding Hood."

"Still time to choose a different costume," Tony said, and Steve tossed a throw pillow over his shoulder at Tony's head. Tony ducked it. "What?" he asked Steve, pretending innocence. "There is! We can still do something different. Something-" His shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. "Something that is not this!"

Christine gave him a frost edged look. "I think he looks charming," she said. DJ, his fingers working methodically back and forth on the cape's ribbon trim, looked pleased by that. He gave a little hop, and then a spin, watching the skirt of his dress flare out.

"He's adorable," Tony said, his voice flat.

Steve's eyes rolled up towards the ceiling. "His objection," he said to Christine, "isn't DJ's costume. It's the rest of the family costumes." He leaned back into the couch. "Deej is Little Red, I'm the Woodsman, and that makes Tony-"

"The Big Bad Wolf," Tony said.

"Granny!" DJ corrected him with a broad grin.

"No," Tony told him.

DJ bounced over, wrapping his arms around his father's legs, and leaning into them. "YES!" he crowed. "Granny."

"Problem with wearing a dress, Mr. Stark?" Christine asked, as she pushed herself to her feet. "Look at how cute your son looks." 

“And I'm never going to live up to that, so why try?” Tony asked.

“You could take a lesson from him." Steve said, and Tony let out a melodramatic groan. “I'm just saying.”

"Let's be clear. I have no problem with wearing a dress," Tony groused. "I have a problem wearing a flannel granny gown."

"I love how he says that with such..." Steve shook his head, looking for the right word.

"Disdain?" Christine asked.

"Bile is probably closer, but that works, too."

"I'm just saying," Tony said, even as he rubbed a hand over DJ's hood-clad head, "I am not, repeat, not, wearing a flannel granny gown."

"And here I was going to offer to loan you one, but if you're going to be like that, you can get your own,” she said with a sweet smile.

“Fine, I-” Tony leaned over. “We could do Tron.” His eyebrows wiggled. “Glowy lights!”

“No,” DJ said.

“Star Trek,” Tony wheedled. “I'd make an excellent Kirk.”

“Scotty,” Steve said under his breath, and Tony glared in his direction. Steve smiled at him, wide and bright.

“Noooooooooo,” DJ said, a giggle running through the word.

“Wall-E?” Tony suggested, and DJ seemed to consider that for a minute before shaking his head. “Long John Silver? Spider-Man? Ariel?”

“I'm not carrying him around if he has a tail,” Steve said.

“But you'd make an excellent King Triton,” Tony said. “Shirtless. Good look for you.”

“No,” DJ said, grabbing one of Tony's hands and leaning back.

“Captain America?” Tony asked. “I dressed as Captain America once. Stark family tradition.”

“No, Tony,” Steve said, almost in unison with DJ's laughing, “No!”

“You could be helpful here,” Tony told Steve, making a face in his direction.

Steve shrugged. “Star Wars?” he asked with a grin.

“Bit your tongue, Rogers,” Tony said. 

“What's wrong with Star Wars?” Christine asked in a stage whisper.

“Tony considers it demeaning to bots,” Steve said, pushing himself up from the couch. He collected his coffee cup from the table. “DJ loves it.”

“Artooooooooooo,” DJ said, setting one bare foot on the side of Tony's, using it as a pivot point, and leaned forward as far as he could go and not end up on his face.

“You need to stop showing him that trash,” Tony said.

“Nope,” Steve said, sipping his coffee.

“Rogers, I swear-”

DJ tugged at Tony's hand, distracting him. “Granny!” he said.

“No. Not Granny,” Tony said. “How about Indiana Jones? I could pull off Sean Connery’s character. Or, I bet I could make you a Baymax costume in like, ten hours tops, and honestly, that's a pretty good idea, inflatable suit, that could work, you bruise really easily, I think that we can-”

“No,” DJ said, smiling as he leaned against Tony's side, one hand latching onto Tony's shirt.

“So,” Christine said to Steve, catching his attention. “Costume's clearly a hit.”

"Well, with the person who matters, it is. Thanks for making it for him," Steve said, his voice low. He needn't have bothered, Tony and DJ weren't paying him any attention at all at this point. "He's so sensitive to fit and fabric that I was dreading trying to find one, but you shouldn't have had to do it for us.”

Christine waved him off with the flick of her hand. "I got to make an adorable costume for an adorable child. I don't know why you'd think I'd object to this."

"Because it's not your job?"

“I find that SHIELD expects me to be flexible about what constitutes 'my job,'” Christine said. “It's not the first time a hobby or personal interest has come in handy. We're a well rounded organization.”

Steve grinned. “Now I'm imagining Fury asking you to make a Halloween costume.”

“For him or someone else?”

“Can't decide which is funnier, to be honest,” Steve admitted. He watched, warmth curling through him, as DJ spun in almost graceful circles around Tony's legs. Tony snagged him by the cape, keeping him from crashing into any of the furniture. “He'd make a pretty good Little Red, wouldn't he?”

“I'm enjoying the mental picture,” Christine said. "I could probably make him one, too. This pattern is so old that if it was a human, it could legally drink. I've been making this simple little dress and cape combo for kids and grandkids for thirty years now. It's easy enough, once you've got the sizing down, that I could practically do it in my sleep." She glanced at Steve out of the corners of her eyes, her lips curling up in an impish smile. “I could probably finish Director Fury's version tonight...”

“I'd wait for him to suggest it.” 

She nodded. “How about Tony's granny gown?”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “He ordered one already. Trust me. This-” He nodded at the Tony and DJ, still bickering about characters and costumes with their usual singular intensity. “This has been going on for weeks now.”

Christine folded her arms on the back of the couch, leaning into them. “I'm going to say this because I'm a nosy old woman, Steve, but also because I think I've been around this household long enough to speak my mind.” She glanced up at him. “It's all right to tell him no. You know that, right?”

Steve nodded. “I know that. And Tony knows that.” He rolled his coffee cup between his hands, liking the solid warmth of it against his palms. “But his life is a confusing tangle of 'no' sometimes. More than most kids. We have to be so careful with him, his life is so narrow, sometimes.” His voice trailed away, a sense of aching sadness sweeping through him. He could ignore the fear, most of the time, but every once in a while, it was so sharp that it hurt.

“He's never going to have a normal life,” he said at last.

“There's no such thing as normal,” Christine said, her voice soft. “Each child is unique. Each one has their own needs, their own requirements, and the hardest thing to do as a parent is to try to adjust what you can give to what they need.” 

“Maybe,” Steve said. “But I think we can agree that this-” He waved his hand at the room. “Isn't normal.”

“No, but it's perfect for him.” Steve glanced over at her, and she smiled, warm and soft. “I don't think he sees his life as narrow, Steve.”

“But Tony does,” Steve said. He paused. “And I do. So sometimes, when we can, when it's possible, we...” He shrugged. “We flex a bit further in the other direction. We give him the space that we can, we force things to be a little broader, a little more open.”

Christine nodded. “And that means being the Woodsman? And Little Red's Granny?”

“Halloween is for kids,” Steve said, his voice quiet. “Every other day of the year, we tell him to put on his pants and wear his socks and no, the socks go on your feet and you know it, don't even try it, buddy.” She was laughing, and Steve grinned. “One day. One day of the year, he says to us, 'wear this,' and we say-” He shrugged.

“You say yes.”

“We say yes,” Steve agreed. He stared down at the coffee cup. “Thank you. For agreeing to take him to the building's party. It's nice, that he can go.” He pulled his head up, and forced a smile, ignoring how it pulled against his cheeks. “That he can have a normal sort of Halloween.”

“I'm glad I can help. Especially since I suspect this party was not a Stark Tower tradition before DJ's arrival.”

“It might be a new addition,” Steve admitted. “But most of the companies have embraced it, lots of workers and their kids have signed up.” He sucked in a slow, careful breath. “Sneaking one more in there wasn't hard.”

She nodded, her eyes sharp. But whatever she was thinking, she kept it to herself. “Any special instructions?” she asked. “Parties for children are usually wall to wall sweets, what are the criteria for what he can have?”

Steve took a deep breath, glad to be on more familiar ground. “He can eat whatever he wants,” he said. “We've drilled into him that he should only take food from people he trusts, so he's likely going to look to you to decide what he should have. It'll probably be easier if you take it for him and then give him time to decide if he's comfortable eating it. If people are standing over him waiting for him to make up his mind, he'll end up rejecting everything if he gets anxious about it.”

She nodded. “Any favorites?”

“Chocolate and black licorice,” Steve said immediately. “He doesn't like the texture of gumdrops and taffy, at least not to eat. Soft cookies are better than crispy ones. He isn't a fan of thick layers of frosting, but he likes the cake or cupcake underneath, so expect him to scrape it off when he thinks you're not looking.”

“Nope,” Tony said, wandering over with DJ on his back. “Halloween is canceled. We've decided.”

“Not decided,” DJ said from under his hood.

“Totally decided,” Tony said, and DJ wound his arms around Tony's neck. “Choking me won't bring Halloween back.”

“Maybe,” DJ said.

“Absolutely not,” Tony said, grinning. He swung in a circle, his hands holding tight to DJ's legs where they gripped his sides. “We're skipping Halloween and going straight to Thanksgiving, no one cares about Halloween, if they did I'm sure I would've heard about it by now.”

“Hallllllllllllllllloweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen,” DJ shrieked, and Steve wrapped his arm around them both, stopping Tony before they both ended up on the floor.

“Kid's going to throw up down your back,” he said, and Tony grinned at him, his face flushed and his hair disordered. Steve pressed a kiss to his lips, quick and hard, just because he could.

“Probably.” Tony let his head fall onto Steve's shoulder, and Steve rubbed his hair. “Thank Christine for making you your costume,” Tony said, and DJ wriggled his way down off of Tony's back. 

He bounced across the room, screeching to a stop right in front of her. “Thank,” he said. And then, taking a deep breath, he tried again. “Thank. You.”

“You're welcome,” Christine said, crouching down in front of him. “I have to leave to work soon. But I can stay for thirty minutes. Would you like to play a game with me for thirty minutes?”

DJ looked back at Steve and Tony, his face hopeful. Tony nodded, his cheek still braced against Steve's shoulder. “You can if you want to,” he said. “Do you want to?” Steve pressed a kiss to Tony's head, ignoring the way he grumbled.

DJ nodded. He looked back at Christine. “Uno?” he asked.

“I have the cards right here,” she said, gesturing towards her purse. “Just in case you wanted to play.” She straightened up, holding a hand out to him. “I hoped you would want to. I like Uno, and I like playing it with you.”

“I like Uno,” he said. He paused, eyes blinking slowly. “Too.”

“I'm glad. Want to go to the kitchen? We can play Uno and have some juice.”

“There are pears in the fridge, if he wants a snack,” Steve said, rubbing a hand up and down Tony's back. “If you don't mind cutting-”

“I believe I can handle this particular op, Captain.” With a smile, Christine collected her purse, and with DJ's hand clasped firmly in hers, headed out.

In the silence that followed, Tony made a despairing sound. “I object to this, I just want to make that clear.”

“You've been making that clear for the past hour or so,” Steve said, doing his absolute best to keep a straight face. “You've been absolutely clear on your objections, we fully understand your objections.”

“You just don't give a damn,” Tony said.

“That is pretty much the case,” Steve agreed. 

Tony curled against his chest, and Steve hugged him close. “I don't want to do this.”

Steve nodded. “I know. But you're going to.”

Tony sighed. “But I'm going to.” He raised his head, just a few inches, and let it drop against Steve's shoulder again. “I'm going to be seen in a flannel nightgown.”

“And a frilly night cap,” Steve agreed.

“I'm going to NEED a night cap,” Tony said. “The liquid kind.”

Steve leaned back, and smiled down at him. “Tell you what. Get through this, and the nice burly woodsman'll carry you off to safety.”

Tony's eyebrows arched, his gaze going sharp. “Are you trying to distract me with sex?”

“Why, is it working?”

“It always works, and you know it,” Tony said.

“Yeah, that's why I do it,” Steve said.

“Also you like the sex.”

“Also I like the sex,” Steve agreed, grinning. 

“You will be the end of me, I swear,” Tony said. But his eyes were dark and focused now. “What if it's really the big bad wolf in that ugly nightgown?” 

Steve kissed him. “I think I can handle that.”

“I'll huff and I'll puff-”

“Wrong wolf.”

“Good enough for Halloween, Rogers.”


	3. Chapter 3

There was a time in Tony's life when a party would've involved a lot of alcohol, a lot of very pretty people, and a lot of bad choices. Now, it appeared that the biggest party on his social calendar involved about two hundred kids under the age of ten, cupcakes with spider rings shoved into the frosting, and juice boxes.

He wasn't sure if it was a relief, or a disappointment. He was fairly certain that the music used to be better; it he heard one more rendition of 'Monster Mash' he was going to lose it. Or at least he needed a different version. “They should make a techno remix of 'Monster Mash,'” he said to the pleasant woman who'd been roped into running the building's Halloween party. 

Connie opened her mouth, and closed it again. “They should,” she said at last, in the careful, appeasing way that people used with him sometimes. She shifted her weight. “Can I get you anything else, Mr. Stark?”

Tony glanced around. He'd been doing the meet and greet thing since he'd walked in, and there were still a few kids and parents waiting to pose for pictures or get a signature. But most of those in attendance were scattered around the large, open conference space, doing a variety of crafts, playing games, and consuming sugar by the fistful. “No, I'm just going to-” He glanced around. “Wander around, say hi, you know, be visible.”

She nodded. “Let me know if there's anything I can help at all.”

Tony bent his head over a boy's autograph book. “Can you hook me up with one of those juice boxes?” he asked.

Connie paused. “Yes?” she said at last, cautious about it. “I mean, assuming that question was serious?”

“What, a man can't have a hankering for a sweet, sweet Ecto-Cooler juice box?” Tony asked, with a grin.

“I'll see what I can do about that.”

“Thanks.” Tony turned to the next kid in line. The little girl in front of him, her dark hair pulled into pigtails on either side of her head, held out a cardboard Iron Man helmet to him. “Can you sign this, please?” she asked, giving Tony a winning, gap-toothed smile.

“I think I can manage that,” Tony said, taking it from her with a careful hand. It was well constructed, despite the materials used, and it had been painted a rather wince-inducing bright pink and teal. He scribbled a quick signature with a silver Sharpie, and held it out to her. “Nice suit, kid.”

“I made it myself,” she said. “My mom helped.” She smiled down at her helmet. “My brother says that I couldn't be Iron Man, because Iron Man is a boy, an' besides, I didn't paint it right.” She looked up at Tony. “But I like this.”

“Yeah, I do, too,” Tony said, biting back a smile. “You made your own suit, you made it just how you wanted it to be, so I think you're a pretty good Iron Man.”

"My brother says that I'm not," the little girl said.

"Aaaaaaaand, we're listening to him, why?" Tony asked. "Clearly, he does not know what he's talking about. I've never had a brother, but I have a guy who might as well be my brother, I mean, he's always making brotherly noises at me, and let me tell you, when it comes to fashion?" He sliced a hand through the air. "Useless. Absolutely useless, man can't match a pocket square and a tie to save his life, at least not to my very high standards.”

He paused. “I think that's why he joined the Air Force,” he mused. “So he didn't have to worry about what kind of clothing he had to wear today, the brass decides that for him, in the long run, it's a decent plan, I mean, other than the whole 'getting shot at' part.” He glanced down at the little girl. “Right?”

She was staring up at him with a confused, slightly quizzical expression on her adorable little face. “You're weird,” she said at last.

“Kelsey!” her mother said, her voice aghast, and Tony started laughing.

“Kid's right,” he said. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Kelsey, I think that it's universally accepted wisdom that brothers think they know things, and they do not." His head tipped forward. “Right?”

She considered that. "He knows A FEW things," she allowed. "Like how to make a snowman when you don't have much snow an' where to stand so the subway door opens right in front of you every time an' how to tie your shoes so they never ever come untied accidentally an' how to open the milk cartons at school without tearing the spout."

"These are all very good things to know," Tony agreed. "But he clearly knows nothing about Iron Man armor." He looked up. Kelsey's mother was hovering right behind her, her cheeks pink. "Okay if we take a picture together?" he asked her with a smile. "I'll need a shot of her outfit for reference."

"Oh, of course," she said. She fumbled in her handbag, coming up with a phone. "I can take it, if you'd like.”

“Thanks.” Tony nodded, and crouched down. "May I take a picture with you?" he asked Kelsey. "So I can remember our paint scheme here? I want to get the details right."

“Are you going to make pink armor?” she asked, her eyes huge.

Tony grinned. “I think I am.”

“Promise?” 

He stuck out his hand. “Shake on it.” After a moment of careful consideration, she reached out, taking his hand and giving it a firm up and down pump. “Good deal. Smile for the camera, or the StarkPhone, whatever we've got here, easier than dealing with the security footage.” He held up a fist. “Iron Persons fist bump.”

“Fist bump!” she said, matching her actions to the word, and a few minutes later, she and her mother were heading off, Kelsey running off ahead of her. Tony had the feeling that her brother was going to be on the receiving end of a lot of 'told you so's' very soon.

Tony capped his sharpie, slipping it into his jacket pocket, and headed across the room. There was a quiet corner that Connie had set aside for kids to rest and have snack or read a book. There were stacks of pillows and coloring books scattered around, and the sound system was muted, letting kids calm down and relax, despite the party atmosphere. 

DJ was sitting on a bright orange pillow, leaning against Christine's side. She had a book open in her lap, her head down next to DJ's as she read to him. DJ was listening intently, the straw of his juice box clamped between his lips, his face relaxed. 

Tony paused to exclaim over a kid in a particularly overblown pirate costume and high five a little girl dressed as some sort of fairy, before he worked his way around to DJ. "Hey there. Having a good time?" he asked, as Christine set their book aside.

DJ nodded, and Christine pushed herself to her feet. She extended her hands to DJ, who took them and let himself be pulled up. "Can you say hello to Mr. Stark?" she asked, with a faint smile for DJ.

DJ gave him a wave and a smile. "Hi!" he said. He held the juice box out to Christine. "Empty."

"Okay, do you want to go put it in the recycling bin?” she asked, and DJ nodded. “Do you know where it is?” 

“Yes,” DJ said and then shot off across the room to the big blue bins that were stationed by the snack tables.

Tony watched him go, letting himself have that. "How's it going?" he asked Christine. “You two enjoying the-” He gave the room a wave. “The shindig?”

“We're having a wonderful time,” Christine said, as DJ returned. He paused to scoop up a wicker basket from beside his pillow, holding onto the handle with both hands.

“Nice basket,” Tony said, which won him a grin. “Where'd you get that?”

“Everyone in my family who's been Little Red Riding Hood has carried that basket for trick or treating,” Christine said, her eyes dancing. “DJ's just the latest in the line.”

DJ held it up. “Tricking treat!” he said, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

"Kid, you're going to clean up.” Tony looked up at Christine. "Any problems?"

"Nothing worth mentioning." She smoothed a hand over DJ's head. "We did not enjoy bobbing for apples. At all.”

Tony winced. "Yeah, I'm surprised he even tried." He crouched down. "You okay?"

DJ nodded. "Okay," he said. He reached up, pushing his hand through his hair. The strands were slightly damp, curling around his face and forehead. His nose wrinkled up as he rubbed a lock between his thumb and forefinger. "Not good."

"No, it's not." Tony gave him a reassuring smile. "I don't like having my head shoved into the water, either, don't worry about it."

"I explained that it's a hard game," Christine said with a smile. "Having your mouth open and water in your nose, and trying to chase an apple around a big tub."

"It's a stupid game," Tony said. He glanced over his shoulder. "Did you paint a pumpkin?"

DJ's face split in a wide grin, his wet hair forgotten just like that. "Yes!"

"Really." Tony straightened up, tucking his hands in his pockets. He ignored the sensation of disappointment, the odd ache of having missed something. Not something important. Not something necessary. But still. Even though he'd been the one to set this up, to have Christine here with DJ so that he didn't have to hover, didn't have to call attention to their relationship, so DJ could have a normal day with other normal children, it still hurt.

Even if that was stupid. And it was stupid. This was what they were going to have to do. He knew it, more than anyone else. He'd made his choices, and his enemies, and DJ wasn't going to suffer for them.

"It's drying now," Christine said, and Tony snapped out of his thoughts with a jerk. Her head was tipped to the side, just a bare inch or two, her gaze sharp and considering. She might've looked like someone's grandmother, but under that, she was every inch a SHIELD agent. She smiled at Tony, a kind sort of smile, slight and reassuring. "I'm sure he'd be happy to show it to you."

Tony looked down at DJ. "Is that so?" he said, hiding a smile by stroking his goatee with one hand. DJ nodded, hard enough to make his whole body bounce. "I don't know..." Tony pretended to think about it, ignoring DJ hopping around his legs, his skirt poofing out with each jump.

"I'm sure all the children would be happy if you checked them out," Christine said.

"Well, if we can make children happy, that is pretty much what this holiday is for, right?" Tony asked, waving a hand through the air. "Lead the way."

Kelsey was at the painting table, a paintbrush clutched in her hand. She studied DJ, her brow furrowed as DJ hopped past her chair. “Are you a girl or a boy?” she asked. There was nothing mean about the question, nothing judgmental, just a simple, curious question.

DJ blinked as he considered that. “Boy,” he said at last.

“Only girls wear skirts,” Kelsey told him.

“Just like only boys wear Iron Man costumes, and only if they're the right colors?” Tony asked her.

She thought about that. “That's stupid,” she said at last.

“Kinda,” Tony agreed.

Kelsey nodded. “I like your dress,” she said to DJ. “It's really pretty.”

He smiled. “I like your armor,” he said, picking the words out with care. Kelsey just waited for him to finish the short sentence. With a grin, he added another word. “Pink.”

“Pink is the best,” she said.

“Best,” DJ said, decisive. He looked up at Tony. “Pumpkin.”

“Let's see,” Tony said, with a nod and a smile. He tucked his hands in his pockets to keep from taking DJ's hand. “Let's see them all.”

*

"Are you sitting in the dark, alone, watching security footage of small children?"

Steve's eyebrows arched. "Well, when you say it that way, it just sounds bad." He glanced over his shoulder with a faint smile. "Are you wearing... A sweater vest?" he asked, his eyebrows arching. “A gray sweater vest?”

Natasha flipped the lights on, then took a seat next to him on the couch, setting her tea cup and saucer on the end table next to her. "Yes," she said, and offered no other explanation. She crossed her legs, her pleated skirt arranged neatly on her lap. “Let's go back to what you're doing, Captain Rogers.”

Steve turned his attention back to the TV, where Jarvis was running the Tower security feed for him. On the screen, DJ was considering a donut hanging from a string just above his head. A little girl in pink Iron Man armor and a boy dressed as a frog were gesturing at it, animated as they explained how to play the game. DJ seemed skeptical, but willing to give it a try.

“Just...” Steve managed a tight smile. “Just keeping an eye on things, I guess.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natasha nod. “He's having a good time,” she said, and it wasn't really a question, but Steve answered it anyway.

“I think so,” he said. He rocked forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I mean, he seems to be doing okay.” It was a wistful sort of statement, and he shoved a hand through his hair. “He's fine. Having a ball.”

Nat reached out, rubbing his shoulder with a gentle hand. “He's fine.”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded. “Yeah.”

"We ready?" 

They both looked up as Clint walked in, dressed in black robe and carrying a Styrofoam cooler case. Clint eyed Steve, his brow wrinkling. "He's still not dressed," he said to Natasha. He sounded confused about this.

"I'm working on it," Natasha said, reaching for the cooler. She lifted the lid, releasing a curl of pale, moisture leaden air. "He's surprisingly hard to get moving sometimes."

"I'm still in the room," Steve pointed out.

"Yes, we know, we just don't care." Natasha closed the cooler with a satisfied nod. "The others?" she asked Clint.

Clint spread his arms. "That's it? That's all I get? Where are the others? No comment on my bitchin' outfit?"

"No," Natasha said, with a sweet smile. Clint pouted at her. "Fine, you did an adequate job at putting on a robe you already owned."

"Wow, thanks." Clint looked at Steve. "What do you think?"

Steve frowned at him. "Uh, nice robe?" he said at last.

"I impersonated a judge once," Clint explained, bracing a hand on the back of the couch. "That was a hell of a week, let me tell you."

"SHIELD has some strange ops," Steve said.

"Oh, it wasn't for SHIELD." While Steve struggled not to think about that, Clint blithely continued on. "Thor is on his way down with the rest of our stuff, and Bruce says he's in, but we need to head off some of the more hyper kids."

"It won't be the first time I've used you as a human shield," Natasha agreed, retrieving her tea cup from the table and balancing it on top of the cooler.

"And it won't be the last, either," Clint said, apparently unconcerned by this. He looked down at Steve. "So. You coming, Cap?"

"Coming where?" Steve asked, thoroughly confused now.

"He's usually quicker on the uptake than this," Clint said to Natasha.

“He's having a very hard day,” Natasha said.

“Look, you can both-”

Bruce poked his head into the room. “Sorry, Thor, Thor's coming, he's having some problems with the-” Bruce paused, hugging a large box to his chest. His face twisted in a wince. “With the beard.”

“He has a beard, how can he have a problem with the beard?” Clint asked, taking the box from him. “Did you bring me a cup?”

“Yes, and he's having a problem with the beard because he says we didn't give him enough time to-” Bruce gestured at his face. “Grow it out.”

“That was for good reason,” Natasha said, opening the box before Clint could even set it down. She started digging into it. “Here, Steve,” she said, and held a witch's hat out to him.

Steve took it, because that seemed like the thing to do. “What-”

“That's a kid's party,” Natasha said, nodding at the security footage. “Happening in a building where the Avengers happen to live.”

“Nine-tenths of the kids are hoping we'll put in an appearance,” Clint said, plopping a hat on his head. With a flick of his finger, he tipped it to a jaunty angle. “So we figured, why not?”

“Be nice to see DJ, you know, have fun, right?” Bruce asked. He pulled a handful of striped ties out of the box. “And, well, in keeping with his storybook theme, Clint thought-” He shrugged. “Wizards and witches.”

Everything clicked into place, and Steve nodded. “Harry Potter. We're doing Harry Potter.”

“Well, WE'RE doing Harry Potter,” Natasha said. “I don't know what you're doing. Other than sitting in the dark and looking sad.”

“Hey, I think I'm coping pretty well,” Steve started, a bit stung. He'd been good. He'd been discreet. He'd hung back and let Tony put in an appearance while he sat here and felt sorry for himself for being excluded. Which was stupid, but telling himself that hadn't helped. It still hurt, it still felt like he was being left behind somehow.

“You can cope, or you can put on your robe and hat, grab a wand, and go watch DJ try to eat a donut off of a string while we spread out and provide cover,” Natasha said, with a smile. She took the hat out of his hands and shoved it over his head. “Let's go, Rogers. Move it.”

He pushed it out of his eyes. “So... Wizards,” he said, pushing himself upright. “How do you even know about this?”

“Clint is a nerd,” Natasha said.

“Don't let her fool you, she's the one who picked our houses,” Clint said. He pointed. “Her. She's our human sorting hat.”

“I was bored, it was a very boring op,” Natasha said, her voice arch. “And it was for DJ's sake. I'm not reading him 'Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel' for the rest of his life.”

“You hit me with a book! Book six! That was one of the biggest books!”

Natasha smirked at him. “Shut up and find your house tie, idiot.” 

Bruce pulled a robe out of the box, holding it out to Steve. “Here, this one is definitely you sized, and your tie's in here, somewhere...” He looked up. “Do you have it?” he asked Natasha.

“No, just mine.” Natasha wound her yellow and blue tie around her hand. "Hufflepuff," she said. She nudged him to the side, digging through the box as Steve pulled on his robe.

Bruce was already snugging his blue and white version up around his throat. "Ravenclaw," he said with a slight smile. 

"Gryffindor," Clint said, holding his red and gold tie out to Natasha. "Who can't tie his own ties."

"He can, he just likes the attention," Natasha said, turning to take it. She slipped it around his neck. "Reckless and bold and confident and stubborn and a little loud and brassy. But not bright."

He grinned at her. "Compassionate and calm and protective and fiercely loyal to those who deserve it, strong willed and quiet and an excellent judge of character." He tipped his head up so she could tighten it. “And fair.”

Steve glanced at Bruce, who shrugged. "I, uh, I just look good in blue," he said, with a puckish smile. From the box, he pulled a green and white striped tie, holding it out to Steve.

"Slytherin?" Steve asked, taking it.

"Aggressive, smart, driven, cunning," Clint said. He gave Steve a smile. “Ambitious. Marked by a need to succeed. To excel.”

"I don't think-" Steve started.

"How many times did you try to sneak past the medical exams?" Natasha asked. Her eyebrows arched. "How many times did you lie and-"

"Fine," Steve said, winding his tie around his neck. “Fine. But the first time someone calls me Draco-”

“It'll be Tony,” Clint said, and Bruce and Natasha nodded in tandem.

“It'll absolutely be Tony,” Steve agreed. “Fine.” He looked up. “Wait, what house is Thor, then?”

“He's not a house. He's a professor,” Natasha said, adjusting her hat on her copper curls. She reached for her tea cup and the cooler. As Steve watched, stymied, she opened the cooler, and with a pair of plastic tongs, dropped a chunk of dry ice into her tea cup. Clint handed her a bottle of water, and she carefully poured a bit into the cup. Moments later, the cup bubbled over with pale white smoke, which pooled over the rim onto the saucer. She picked it up. “Magical.”

“How come you're allowed to play with dry ice and I'm not?” Clint asked. He held out his cup for a chunk.

“Because I don't put it next to my mouth and pretend I'm a dragon.”

“Well, you don't when we're LOOKING,” Clint said. “We have no way of telling what you do when you're alone.”

“Trust me,” she said. “It doesn't involve dry ice.”

“It does with me,” Bruce said. “But I claim science. Alone-time science.” He held out his cup. “I want magic tea, though.”

“It's science!” Clint told him.

“I don't think you people should be allowed near children,” Steve said.

“I'll remember that next time you want us to babysit,” Natasha said with a smirk.

“You're a Hufflepuff, you'll do it anyway.”

She tipped her tea cup in his direction. “Probably.”

“So who's Thor dressed as?” Steve asked.

“Hagrid,” Bruce said. He mimicked stroking a beard. “It's... A unique look on him.”

“And now I'm thinking we should go fetch him before he decides to find a real magical creature to set loose in a room full of children,” Steve said. 

Everyone stilled. Exchanged glances. “Seconded,” Clint said. “Let's go.”

*


	4. Chapter 4

“Ready?” Steve asked.

DJ considered the door, his eyes huge, his hands locked on the handle of his basket. “No,” he said at last.

Steve clapped a hand over his mouth, rubbing hard to hide his smile. “Are you sure?” he asked, shifting the prop ax that Tony had made up for him to his other shoulder. DJ nodded, reaching up to latch onto Steve's plaid flannel shirt.

“Knock on the door,” Tony said. He waved a hand at it. “Look. Right there. Let's get this over with.”

DJ shook his head hard. “You,” he said, his voice hopeful.

“Where is this coming from?” Tony asked him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Where did you discover shame? That's not in the Stark genetic code, let's go, it's fine, you're adorable, and everyone loves you, so I'm not sure what this 'shy' thing is, but cut it out, you're going to traumatize me.”

“Tony,” Steve said, struggling to keep a straight face. He smoothed a hand over DJ's hooded head, and DJ leaned into the touch. “Lay off, this is a new thing, and new things are scary sometimes.”

“Look at me!” Tony said to DJ, spreading his arms wide. “I'm doing a new thing, and I'm doing it in a pink velour robe! I think if I can do this new thing, you can do this new thing. Sure, it's a new thing, but we're here. In horrible, horrible clothing. Taking the strain off of you. You're small and cute, I'm neither of those things.”

“I think you pull it off,” Steve told him.

“You're delusional, thank you anyway.” Still, Tony reached out and readjusted the mop cap that covered his dark hair. The lace ruffle dipped low over his forehead, and he sighed. “I will burn this thing.”

“Granny,” DJ proclaimed.

“Yes, exactly, Granny,” Tony said, his eyes rolling up towards the ceiling. 

“Behave,” Steve told him.

“No. Velour makes me cranky,” Tony said, making an exaggerated face at DJ, who grinned back at him. Tony pointed at the door, a warm smile curling his lips. “Go on, brat. Beg for candy. It's the American way.”

DJ glanced up at Steve, who gave him a reassuring smile. “Go ahead,” he said, as gentle as he could. “They know you're coming. They'll be disappointed if you don't knock.”

“It's Barton, he's probably forgotten,” Tony grumbled under his breath as DJ reached out, giving the door a cautious knock. Almost immediately, he retreated, his dance shoes skittering across the floor as he ducked back behind Steve's legs.

“Good job,” Steve said, 

But it was Phil who opened the door. “Yes?” he asked, smiling down at DJ. “Is this Little Red Riding Hood? I heard you were around, but still.” His dark eyes danced as he turned away, reaching for a bowl on the nearby table. “Seeing is believing.”

DJ held out the edges of his cape, grinning up at Phil, his momentary burst of bashfulness forgotten. “Cape!” he explained, very serious about it.

“Very nice,” Phil agreed with all due gravity. “It suits you.” He glanced at Steve. “I always assumed he'd end up in a cape, but this wasn't what sprung to mind.”

“I prefer this,” Steve said with a smile. “We've faced some odd opponents, but no child-eating wolves just yet. He's probably safer in that cape than the alternative.”

“You know, we wouldn't have to worry about that if he had armor,” Tony said, and Steve gave him a look.

“Don't even start,” he said, and Tony shrugged. 

“Armor,” he said, arms crossed over his chest. “It's-”

“No,” Steve said, because DJ was looking far too interested in their conversation. 

“Fine,” Tony said. “Coulson, are you planning on, I don't know, putting on a costume?”

Phil pulled the lapel of his suit coat back, revealing a gaudy ribbon pinned to his shirt pocket. It read 'Official Ministry of Magic.' “I am in costume.”

Tony studied it. “You're dressed... As a bureaucrat.”

“Someone has to keep you muggles in line.” DJ held up his basket. Phil's lips twitched. “What do we say?” he asked.

DJ considered that. “Thank?”

“Not yet,” Steve said, biting back a laugh. DJ looked up at him, eyes wide. “Trick or-”

DJ's face cleared. “Tricking treat!” he said.

“Good enough.” Phil dropped a full size chocolate bar into his basket. “Barton! Come on, before Stark gets the eggs.”

“What, I'm coming, I had to wrap these up, otherwise-” Clint came up the hall, his robe fluttering behind him, a pile of cellophane wrapped balls in the crook of his elbow. “They're going to stick to everything, you know that they-” His head came up, and he stopped talking. For a second, he just stared at Tony, his mouth gaping open, his eyes huge, and then he started to laugh.

“I will have you murdered,” Tony said, his voice full of dire consequences. “I know people who will do it for free.”

“Oh my GOD, worth it,” Clint said, before another guffaw bent him double. “I'm-” He wiped a hand over his face. “I'm going to die doing what I loved, which is making fun of you.”

“Know what, why wait, I can do it myself.” Tony said, and Steve wrapped an arm around his waist, dragging him back into a hug.

“Ignore him,” Phil said to DJ. DJ nodded. Phil looked at Clint, who was still giggling. With a faint sigh, he smacked Clint on the back of the head.

“Right,” Clint said, straightening up. He wiped a hand over his watering eyes. “Yeah. Got it. Right.” His eyes flicked in Tony's direction, and he started to laugh again. “Oh, God.”

“This is going to go on for a while,” Phil said. “Maybe you should just move along?” He took the orange wrapped spheres from Clint. “Here. Popcorn balls,” he told DJ, dropping three of them into the bucket. “One for each of you.”

“Now, we say thank you,” Steve said.

“Thank,” DJ said, obediently. He reached for Tony's hand. “Tricking treat!”

“I am leaving only because we have others to shake down for candy,” Tony said, with an amazing amount of dignity for a man wearing oversized slippers that looked like sharks. “Have him removed from the premises by morning.”

Phil arched an eyebrow. “We'll see you at dinner,” he said, and with a friendly wave to DJ, he shut the door. Clint's laughter was still audible through the panel, and Tony glared at it.

“That was the worst of it,” Steve pointed out. He reached out, smoothing a hand down the back of Tony's neck, tugging him in for a kiss. “The others will be better.”

Tony gave him a look. “You sweet, naive man,” he said.

“Tricking treats?” DJ asked, wriggling between them, swinging his basket as he went.

“I was trying to get a treat, but fine,” Tony said, catching his hand. DJ let the handle of his basket slide up to rest on his elbow, and reached his other hand towards Steve. Grinning, Steve took it.

“Where to next?” he asked DJ.

DJ's face scrunched up as he considered the question. “Nat,” he said, with a sharp nod.

“Good plan. Let's go.”

Natasha did a better job at hiding her amusement than Clint had. She limited herself to a small, knowing smirk and an arched eyebrow. “Lovely,” she said to Tony, who flipped her off behind DJ's back. Steve reached out and dragged his hand down. It was harder than it should've been; Tony was invested in the gesture.

“Tricking treat!” DJ said, knowing his lines this time. Nat turned her attention to him, and DJ held up his basket, grinning at her. “Treats here,” he explained, nodding at the basket.

“Oh, is that where they go?” she asked. She dropped a packet of small, dark brown cookies glazed in pale white sugar into his basket. “Here. Some of my favorite pryaniki.” She cupped his face with one gentle hand, her smile softening. “Happy Halloween, little one.”

“Thank!” DJ said, grinning up at her. “Love!” He held up both arms, demanding a hug, and with a soft laugh, Natasha obliged him. That accomplished, he bounced off, up the hall, and Tony hustled after him.

“Thank you,” Steve said. Natasha raised one shoulder in a slight shrug. “He adores you.”

“He's got excellent taste,” Natasha said, with a slight smile. She braced a hand on the door. “You'd better catch up to them. Leaving two Starks without adult supervision seems like a poor choice.”

Steve's head tipped to the side and he bounced his ax on his shoulder. “I'm on it.” With a snappy salute, he headed off after DJ and Tony, catching up with them just outside Thor's door.

“I thought we barred you,” Tony was saying to a grinning Darcy Lewis. She was dressed in a lovely fairy tale style dress in a pretty vibrant shade of red, and was holding a candy apple that was nearly the same color. “I thought security had orders about you.”

“Yeah, but I'm in disguise,” she said, waving a hand at her outfit. “They never saw me coming.” She smiled up at Steve as he came up behind Tony. “I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay!” she sang at him, and Steve couldn't hold back a laugh.

“Who're you supposed to be, anyway?” Tony asked her.

“Rose Red,” Darcy said, waving her candy apple around like a wand. “Jane's Snow White. I thought that big, blonde and Nordic would take the hint and be her Prince Charming, but he missed his cue and showed up as a giant bearded hermit with a plush dragon.”

“He's still quite charming,” Jane said, appearing in the door just behind Darcy. She paused, wincing. “More so now that we've gotten that... Thing off of his face.”

“That beard was terrifying,” Tony said. “I hope you burned it.”

“What is it with you and burning things today?” Steve asked him.

“I like burning things, it's very final,” Tony said. He pointed at DJ. “Give the kid his due.”

DJ held up his basket. “Tricking treat!”

Darcy braced her shoulder against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest. “Hmmmmm,” she said, her eyes narrowing. She took a bite of her candy apple and chewed, slowly and deliberately. “I choose... Trick.”

“Could you just give the kid some chocolate?” Tony asked her, but DJ didn't even blink. He just set his basket on the floor, and dug out the popcorn balls that Clint had made for him. Carefully, he peeled the cellophane free from one of them and then stood, bobbling the treats as he did, and nearly dropping all three of them.

Steve watched, curious, and well aware that he should probably be stopping this, but for some reason, he just stood back, waiting to see what DJ was going to do. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Tony's face, and it was clear that neither of them had a clue.

Grinning up at Darcy, DJ slowly started to juggle the three balls. It was awkward, and he rocked wildly forward and back to keep them within reach, and with each toss, it looked like he was going to drop all three. After a few halting, awkward passes, he tossed the unwrapped ball up and tipped his head back.

And caught it in his mouth.

It was all very impressive, right up until the point he forgot to catch the other two. One hit the floor with a crackly thump, and the other bounced off of DJ's forehead. He blinked, his head tipping to stare down at it as it rolled across the floor to rest against the far wall. He looked back up, the popcorn ball still clamped between his teeth. And he spread his arms and took a bow.

“Oh my god, that was AWESOME,” Darcy said, her free hand clamped over her mouth. Behind her, Jane was clapping with all the force she could manage, her cheeks pink, her eyes bright with laughter. DJ's eyes closed, a pleased expression sweeping over whatever portion of his face that they could see behind the popcorn ball.

“You're not allowed to hang out with the carnie anymore,” Tony said, taking the popcorn ball out of DJ's mouth. It was missing a significant chunk, and DJ chewed with enthusiasm.

Steve collected the other two. “I don't know,” he said, shaking his head. “I thought that was pretty impressive.”

“It was.” Thor appeared behind Jane, a silver tray held in both hands. On it were rows of caramel apples, the fruit bathed in smooth coats of golden brown candy. Some had been rolled in crushed peanuts, others were traced with lacy threads of white and dark chocolate, or dusted with glittery sugar. Each one had been wrapped in clear cellophane and tied with an orange and black bow.

Thor crouched down, his heavy brown robes pooling around him. “Such a remarkable trick deserves a remarkable treat.” He held out the tray. “In Asgard, we have apples like midday sunshine, gold like your father's armor, bright and shining, sweet like nothing else.” He grinned, his eyes dancing. “These are not quite the same, but made with great joy, and that makes them taste far fairer. Would you care for one, little spark?”

DJ looked at the apples, at Thor, then up at Jane and Darcy. “Go ahead,” Darcy said, waving her candy apple. “Jane makes a mean batch of caramel.” 

Jane grinned, her cheeks flushing. “I do,” she said, pleased.

Carefully, DJ reached out, wrapping his little fingers around the stick of a caramel apple, plain and perfect in a smooth coating of caramel. “Thank,” he said, smiling at them. He adjusted the contents of his basket, tucking the apple in among the other treats.

Thor stood, balancing the massive tray with care. “I do believe you took the best one,” he said, shifting the tray to his hip so he could ruffle DJ's hair with one hand. “Always, you are the most clever of us.”

“I feel like we should be arguing that, don't you, Dr. Foster?” Tony asked.

“I think I can accept it,” Jane said. Darcy held her apple out to her, and Jane took a bite. “We'll bring the rest of them up.”

“Thanks,” Steve said. DJ grabbed his hand, and Steve smiled down at him. “Ready to go see Bruce?” 

“Yes!” DJ said, hopping up and down, his basket swinging through the air. 

“Yes, please,” Tony corrected him. “See you at dinner,” he said to the others.

“Looking forward to it,” Darcy said, letting the others pass before she shut the door, wiggling her fingers at DJ in a little wave. He waved back with a great deal more force, nearly upending his basket at the same time. Tony caught it with one hand, steadying it. 

“Careful,” he said, affection coming through in the chiding word. “That's not yours. You need to be careful with it so you can give it back to Christine, right?”

DJ nodded, dropping Steve's hand to wrap both of his around the handle. He bounced ahead of them, his cape fluttering behind him with each hop. Steve reached for Tony's hand instead. “Almost done,” he said, trying to sound reassuring.

“Then the hell really begins,” Tony grumbled. But he wove his fingers with Steve's, his grip strong and familiar. “I'm keeping the slippers.”

“I thought you might like those,” Steve said, with a faint smile.

Reaching Bruce's apartment a few steps ahead of them, DJ immediately knocked on the door without any prompting. “Trick treat!” he called out, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, his basket swinging in front of him. 

The door opened, and Bruce leaned out. “Hi,” he said, smiling down at DJ, one hand rubbing at his beard roughened jaw. His Hogwarts tie was crooked, and his hair was a tangled mess, but his smile was sweet. “Happy Halloween, Deej.”

“Happy Hall-ween!” DJ sang out. He held up his basket. “Tricking treat!”

Bruce held out a wax paper packet. “Licorice,” he said, dropping it into DJ's bag. “That Australian kind you like.”

“Thank!” DJ said. He set the basket down. “Hug for Hulk?”

“That's very nice of you, I'm sure he'd be pleased.” Bruce crouched down, accepting DJ's hug. “Thank you, Deej.”

“Okay!” DJ collected his basket. “Done!” he told Tony, holding it up.

“Not quite,” Tony said. “Come on, let's go home.”

DJ didn't move. “Treats,” he said, carefully. “For Granny.”

Tony stilled. “That's right,” he said, bracing his hands on his hips. “Little Red brings a basket of treats for her grandmother. That's...” His mouth went thin. “That's what you were doing? Collecting treats so you could give them to me?”

DJ grinned. “Yes!” He shifted the basket, wrapping his hands around the bottom of the basket, pushing it up towards Tony. “For you.”

Tony's head jerked towards Steve, his eyes filled with something Steve couldn't identify, but Steve recognized a parenting tag-in by this point. “Those are yours,” he said, his voice gentle. “Everyone picked out things just for you.” DJ's smile faded, just a little his face falling as he lowered the basket. With a sigh, Steve crouched down. “We can share everything, okay?” He reached out, adjusting DJ's hood with careful fingers. “And it's great that you want to share. That's amazing of you. But some things, we want you to have.” He bumped DJ's chin up with a knuckle. “Okay?”

DJ looked at Tony. “I'll have a piece of that licorice,” Tony said, with a lopsided smile. “Bruce'd probably be okay with that.”

“I have more,” Bruce said. He pulled his glasses off, polishing them on the edge of his robe. His eyes looked a bit too bright when he looked up. “I can share, too, you know.”

“That's not what you said when I tried to borrow some lab equipment,” Tony said.

“You break everything,” Bruce said, with a sharp look. “Everything.”

“Yeah, well, I can buy more.” Tony held his hands out to DJ, and DJ threw himself into Tony's arms, hugging him tight and letting himself be picked up. “Dinner first,” Tony said, resting his forehead against DJ's. “Bruce, want to walk up with us?”

“Do I get to be carried, too?” Bruce asked, stepping out and pulling the door shut behind him.

“I can give you a piggyback ride,” Steve said.

“Know what? I think I can walk,” Bruce said, his lips twitching. “Everyone else already up there, then?”

“If they've followed the plan, they are,” Tony said, turning his head just far enough to kiss DJ's forehead. DJ giggled and curled into his shoulder, his arms wrapped around Tony's neck. “I doubt it, though.”

“I have faith,” Steve said. He ignored the look that Tony gave him, he just took DJ's basket away from him and followed them up the hallway to the elevator.

At their own door, Tony set DJ down. DJ looked up at him, curious, and Tony nodded at the door. “Go ahead. You know the drill.”

DJ looked at him. Then looked at Steve. Then looked back at Tony. Slowly, clearly expecting some trick, he reached up and knocked lightly on the door. “Tricking treat?” he called.

The door opened, and a very large Captain Hook leaned out, looming over DJ. “Who do we have here?” Rhodey asked, tapping his hook against his jaw. “A lost boy?”

DJ let out a shriek, holding his hands out. Laughing, Rhodey scooped him up with his non-hook hand, backing into the penthouse. “How's it going, little guy?” he asked, as DJ made a grab for his hat. “Hey, now, you little thief.”

“He gets that from his father,” Pepper said, crossing the living room towards them. She was dressed as Peter Pan, her red hair drawn back in a ponytail under her pointed green cap. 

“It's a problem,” Tony agreed, as DJ managed to get Rhodey's giant pirate hat onto his own head. It slipped down over his eyes, coming to rest on the end of his nose. “Classy, kid.”

“Did everyone make it up?” Steve asked Pepper, opening his arms for a hug.

“Of course,” she said, hugging him tight and dropping a kiss on his cheek. “And the decorators just left.”

They'd done an amazing job. The huge, sunken living room had been festooned with orange and black bunting, spider webs strung in corners, and tables laid out with lacy black table cloths. The lighting was dim, flickering electric candles set here and there in twisted, heavy metal candlestick, and carved pumpkins lined the bar, the steps and glowed on the landing pad outside the huge glass windows. 

“I'm going to go check and see if Clint needs any help,” Bruce said. He headed towards the kitchen, stopping to chat with Natasha, who was mixing a giant bowl of blood red punch at the bar, her witch's hat looking very appropriate. Darcy was seated nearby, sipping a cup of it and filling bowls with pretzels and peanuts and other snacks. Nearby, Phil and Thor were setting out trays of snacks on one of the tables, punch close at hand.

Rhodey hooked his thumb over his shoulder at one of the tables. “I stopped on the way from California,” he said, grinning. “Picked up churros and an assortment of cookies.” 

“You like to be the favorite uncle, don't you?” Tony asked.

Rhodey smirked at him. “I AM the favorite uncle,” he said. “I just like to keep that position secure.” DJ was wriggling in his arm, and Rhodey set him down, collecting his hat before DJ went dashing off across the room.

DJ crashed into Pepper's legs. “Tricks treat!” he said, despite the fact that he'd left his basket behind with Steve. He grinned up at Pepper, his cape distinctly askew. “Halloween!”

“It is!” she said, laughing. She crouched down, straightening the delicate ribbon at his throat with the same care she'd always used when fixing Tony's ties. “What a great outfit! Did you choose it?”

DJ nodded, the fabric hood bouncing and slipping down over his eyes. “Yes!”

“Starks have good fashion sense,” Tony agreed.

Pepper gave him a look. “I once found you passed out on the kitchen table in a bowler hat, a feather boa, sweatpants and one boot.”

“And I was damn fashionable,” Tony said.

“Uh-huh.” Pepper stood, putting her hands on her hips. “Let's see, what do I have for our favorite little trick or treater?” She turned, and for the first time, Steve spotted the big, glittery gift bag on the table behind her. It was covered in grinning, dancing skeletons, more comical than scary, and topped with massive bow that dripped with ribbon curlicues. 

She held it out to DJ. “Happy Halloween,” she said, smiling.

He stared at it with big eyes, then risked a glance at her. She nodded, pushing the bag towards him. DJ reached out with careful fingers and pulled the bow off of the front of the bag. “Thank,” he said, cradling the mass of ribbon between his fingers. 

“Okay, you can have the rest of it, too,” Rhodey said, as Pepper bit her lip to keep from laughing. DJ held up the bow. “Yeah, that's awesome, you're right.”

Pepper set the bag down on the floor, and it hit with a solid thump. “What is it?” Steve asked DJ.

DJ spared him a glance, and then sat down to peer into the bag. Then, carefully, he pulled out the contents.

It was a huge glass flip top jar, painted with fat golden pumpkins on twisting black vines. It was filled to the brim with tiny little balls, a hundred different colors or more, gleaming behind the glass. DJ tilted the jar, letting the light play over the contents. Every one of the balls was different, some a solid, opaque color, others freckled with white or black specks, or swirled with glitter. 

Tony took an audible breath. “Did you give him a huge jar full of superballs?” he asked. “Hundreds and hundreds of superballs?”

Pepper patted him on the back. “Yes,” she said, with a brilliant smile. “Yes, I did.”

Tony's eyes shut. “I would say that I have done nothing to deserve this-”

“But we both know that would be a lie,” Pepper finished for him.

“Right,” Tony agreed. He sounded resigned. “But Steve. Think of Steve. Steve has done nothing to deserve this.”

“Steve is collateral damage,” Pepper agreed. “Sorry, Steve.”

“I knew what I was getting into,” Steve said, amused. He took the jar away from DJ, setting it on a table out of reach. “Party time, not play time,” he said, and DJ made grabbing motions in midair, reaching for it. Luckily, before the fight could really get going, Jarvis interrupted.

“There are visitors at the door, perhaps you should go check,” he said, and DJ's head snapped around.

“Who could that be?” Tony asked. As DJ bounced off towards the door, he gave Pepper a slit-eyed look. “Fired.”

She grinned. “Worth it.”

DJ threw the door open, and the whole Richards-Storm family said, as one, “Trick or treat!” Valeria was dressed in pretty little checkered dress and a white apron, her long blonde hair arranged in long ringlet curls. The rest of her family was dressed as bears, albeit bears in clothing.

Franklin grinned at DJ. “Trick-”

“Or treat!” finished Valeria, bouncing up and down. “Hi, DJ! Did you have a good Halloween? We had a great Halloween! And I wanted to tell you about the party, but Mom made me promise not to because it's a surprise, were you surprised? I bet you were surprised! Your dress is so pretty! Wanna trade?”

“Yes,” DJ said immediately.

“No,” Sue said, snagging Val by the back of her dress. For her part, Sue was wearing a old fashioned dress with a bell of a skirt and a bow between the round bear ears on her headband. She smiled down at her daughter, amusement and consternation warring in her face, but amusement won out. “Do not,” she warned.

Val grinned up at her. “We won't. Today.”

DJ was fascinated by Franklin's ears, poking carefully at the headband until Franklin reached up and took it off. “I'm a bear,” he explained. His nose wrinkled. “Baby Bear.” He handed the headband over to DJ, tucking his hands in the pockets of his overalls. “She's Goldilocks.”

Val tossed her head, letting the pale curls bounce around her shoulders. “Yep!”

Franklin made a face. “Next year, we're all gonna be Star Wars,” he groused.

“YES!” Val agreed, holding her hands up like she was wielding a lightsaber. Making sound affects under her breath, she swung her arms wildly back and forth. Her brother joined in a moment later, and then all three kids were off and running.

“We brought a salad,” Reed told Steve, holding up the bowl.

“You make a good bear,” Tony told him, as Steve took the salad from him. 

“Thank you. I told them I could do the ears without help but-”

“No, Reed, please, no,” Sue said. Reed glanced at her, and she gave him an affectionate smile. “It's really disquieting, darling.”

“I suppose it must be,” Reed said, nodding. “But I can-”

“Oh, look, there's Jane and Bruce, let's go talk to them,” Sue said, putting her hands in the middle of her husband's back and giving him a gentle push.

Reed was immediately distracted. “Wonderful, I wonder if she has her notes about the Straight-Haight experiment.”

“Most people don't bring those to a party, Reed.”

Steve watched them go. “I bet she's got them,” he said to Tony.

“Of course she fucking has them, she knew Reed was coming,” Tony said. “Can I take off this hat?”

“I think it'd be weirder without the hat, Tony.” Steve leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Reed didn't even notice.”

“Reed wouldn't have noticed if I was NAKED,” Tony said, leaning into Steve's chest. There was a distinctly petulant note to his voice, and Steve wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close.

“Yes, but Sue would've, so let's keep it on for now.”

“Hey, is this where the party is?” Ben Grimm poked his head through the open door, and then slipped inside. He was wearing a pair of white pants and a white shirt, a heavy apron hanging over it and a paper cap on his head. “I brought my special chili.” His head tipped to the side. “And these mugs.”

“Hey,” Johnny said, slipping in behind him. A stack of bakery boxes tied with string were balanced between his hands, and he was dressed all in white as well. Behind him was Spider-Man, wearing an apron and a white chef's hat on top of his costume.

“Who are you three supposed to be?” Tony asked Ben, who was carrying a massive crockpot in his equally massive hands. 

“Butcher,” Ben said, holding up the pot.

“Baker,” Spidey added, holding up his paper wrapped loaves of bread.

“And-” Johnny snapped his fingers, a flame swirling to life over his thumb. “Candlestick maker.” He grinned and hefted the bakery boxes with his other hand. “Cupcakes, I'll stick candles in them.”

“Classy,” Tony said, stepping back and waving them in. “Clint's making 'Intestines and Bloody Eyeballs,' because he is nine years old.”

“It's spaghetti and meatballs,” Steve explained.

“Well, eyeballs are technically meat,” Spidey said. Everyone looked at him. “That's gross, right? That was... That was gross.”

“Super gross,” Johnny agreed. “Anyone else here yet?”

“Nope, you're the first,” Steve told him. “A bunch of the Westchester crew will be over soon, they need to wrap up the party at their place, and Luke, Jessica, Danny and Misty will be up after they've finished with the local trick-or-treaters.”

“Strange puttin' in an appearance?” Ben asked.

“He and Clea will probably be stopping by, but it's a busy night for magic folks, it seems,” Steve said, shutting the door. He caught Johnny's eye. “Flirt with Darcy at your own risk.”

“I'm a risk taker,” Johnny said with a wicked grin.

“Ever seen him get hit by lightnin'?” Ben asked Spidey. 

“No. Have you?”

“Twice. Kid's dumb.”

“Risk!” Johnny said, thrusting a fist in the air, setting off across the room.

“Why do we invite these people?” Tony asked.

“We don’t' know any other people,” Steve said with a straight face. “Besides. You like them.”

“No, I don't, I do not like-”

There was a massive crash, and the sound of three very smart children shrieking with joy. Steve didn't even have to turn around. “The superballs are loose,” he said.

Tony let out a sigh. “Do you want to discipline the kid or chase down hundreds of tiny bouncing balls?”

“Balls,” Steve said almost before he finished the question.

“Coward.”

“Damn straight.” Steve pressed a kiss to Tony's lips. “Happy Halloween, Granny.”

“Happy Halloween.”


End file.
